Edge of Eternity
by Belinda Keller
Summary: Chapter 4 fixed!! Now 17, Margaret Gilbert is sick of living in the shadow of her long dead sister Elena. She’s determined to make her own name known, but is teaming up with a few dangerous strangers, and a 500 year old vampire really a good idea?
1. Default Chapter

Title: Edge of Eternity  
Author: Lisa Harrison  
Email: dancinginthedark2002@yahoo.co.uk   
Spoilers: Vampire Diaries series  
Disclaimer: The ideas, characters and storylines from the Vampire Diaries Series belong to LJ Smith, I'm just borrowing them for fun.   
Rating: 15  
Summary: Now 17, Margaret Gilbert is sick of living in the shadow of her long dead sister Elena. She's determined to make her own name known, but is teaming up with a few dangerous strangers, and a 500 year old vampire really a good idea?  
Notes: feedback appreciated.  
  
Part 1  
  
Dear Diary  
  
She's scary. Most people think she's got this cool mysterious thing about her. Those who have been around Fell's Church for some time, know mysterious strangers tend to be a problem.  
  
Connie's convinced she could be dangerous. The new girl could give us some competition.   
  
I've done everything I can to get out of my sister's shadow. I'm stick to death of hearing about that bitch. Elena is dead and gone, why can't people just forget about her? Aunt Judith talks about her all the time. I used to be absolutely thrilled to hear about Elena.  
  
Bonnie used to come over to see me sometimes, I loved to listen to the stories she'd tell about Elena and Stefan. Now I just switch off. Bonnie hasn't come by in almost two years. I feel like I've wasted half my life trying to be Elena.  
  
This will be my junior year. My life is just like hers. I have two best friends: bubbly, bouncy Connie, boy crazy cheerleader, and sensual, intelligent Darla, the voice of reason. Basically, we're the next generation of Elena, Bonnie and Meredith.  
  
I'm starting to hate being so popular. I hate being judged on who I'm dating, what I think about certain people, whether or not I think the latest new pop group are cool. I want *more*. There has to be something *I'm* destined to do. Something I can do that will be different from Elena.   
  
I've drifted completely off the point, haven't I? I was supposed to be telling you about the freaky new girl Veronique.   
  
(These days I just love any chance I get to rant about how much I hate Elena, so forgive me, you understand, right?)  
  
Veronique is already a hit with the guys. She's tall and almost insultingly slender. She's kind of like Aaliyah - the singer? - in the looks department. She's not your run-of-the-mill popular girl. She totally snubbed Connie who tried to welcome her into our group.  
  
She's aloof and almost mean. Yet everyone's intrigued by her. The strangest thing is, Suzanne, my rival, nominated her for Homecoming Queen, and she accepted. And my secret, I guess, is that I kind of like her. She's...I don't know her well enough to find words.   
  
I'm dreading school in the morning. I think my friends are stating to notice my behaviour is getting weird. I want to shock them, I want to do something they'd never think I'd do. I want to be known as Margaret Gilbert not Elena's little sister.  
  
I want -   
Margaret Gilbert stopped writing. That was odd. She put her diary down on her nightstand. Her eyes moved to her large window opposite the bed. She pushed back her covers, switching off the bedside lamp. She was drawn to the window, feeling almost like she was in some tacky Dracula movie. Any minute now the window would open on their own and a white fog would blow in.  
  
No fog came, the window didn't open. Margaret could see nothing outside. She smiled, shaking her head. She peered out the window, looking at the rows of silent houses. Of course there was nothing there. Nothing had happened in Fell's Church for years now. It had gone back to being a peaceful town Which made Margaret extremely disappointed.  
  
Glancing at the digital clock radio, she saw the green numbers only read 11:30 p.m. She sighed. Why did it feel like the middle of the night?  
  
On an impulse Margaret pulled on her jeans and a black top. She stuck a denim jacket on, putting her keys and wallet in the inside zipper pocket.   
  
She picked out the door. The house was quiet and dark, Aunt Judith's door was closed. The lights downstairs were off. Margaret crept out of her room, shutting the door as silently as she could.  
  
She sneaked down the stairs, making her way to the front door. She stopped, thinking she heard Robert in the kitchen. She ducked out of the house as quickly as she could before he could catch her.  
  
She hurried down the street, not really sure where to go. She'd never sneaked out before. There wasn't much of a club scene in Fell's Church as far as she knew. No after hour clubs she could hang out at.  
  
She wandered through the quiet, dark town, past the closed up shops. The movie theatre in the centre of town was open, but there were no late night movies she really wanted to see.  
  
"Look who's ventured out after dark. Scared yet?"  
  
Margaret's teeth gritted as she watched Suzanne's red convertible stop in front of her. Her short blond hair was curled into tight ringlets, she wore a short glittery red dress showing off her perfect curves. "Why would I be scared?" she said, trying to sound reasonable.  
  
Suzanne snorted. "After what happened to your sister? Half her friends wound up dead or crazy. And then dead. And she just had the *worst* taste, dating suspected murderers and all."  
  
"Yay for her," Margaret snorted in contempt. "So where are you off to then? Hookersville?"  
  
Suzanna smirked. "What would you do if I said yes?"  
  
Margaret smiled herself. "Id say take me along."  
  
Suzanne burst out laughing. "You're kidding, right? Perfect little Maggie Gilbert in the seedy side of town, auditioning for 'Whores Are Us'?"  
  
It was the last thing anyone would ever expect her to do. She wasn't sure if she wanted to sink that low that quickly. "Why not?"  
  
Suzanna stared at her, shaking her head. "What's gotten *in* to you? Seriously, I'm meeting Veronique in some new club."  
  
Margaret opened the passenger door and got in. "Take me with you, anyway."  
Suzanna shrugged, and drove off. Margaret couldn't wait to see the looks on Connie and Darla's faces when they heard about this, hanging out with a girl she was supposed to hate.  
  
The club itself was the only building on a darkened road. There were hardly any lights. Suzanne was frowning as she parked. "I don't like the looks of this."  
  
Margaret could understand completely. The building kind of looked like an abandoned factory. There was one small door to the side where two girls were going in. Shrugging, she followed them.  
  
Inside was no brighter than out, the lighting, if it could be called that, was shades of red and twisting. She just about recognised the music from some new heavy metal band in the charts.  
  
The place was crowded, and Margaret lost site of Suzanne quickly. She couldn't see Veronique either. She made her way to the bar, just praying no one would ask her for I.D.  
  
"You shouldn't be in here." The voice was male and in Margaret's right ear. It had a foreign accent to it as well. Before she could protest, an ice cold hand clamped down on her wrist, and the figure marched her out of the club, back out the door into the parking lot.  
  
Margaret yanked her arm free, glaring furiously. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she snapped.  
  
The boy himself didn't look that much older tha her. He was short, with dark hair and unnaturally pale skin. His black eyes seemed endless, like holes sparkling with mysterious lights in their depths. His lips were curved in an amused smile. He wore black jeans and a shiny red shirt.  
  
"A concerned friend of a friend," he answered. "Don't let me catch you in here again Ms. Gilbert. I might not be so kind next time."  
  
"How am I supposed to get home? My friends are still in there," Margaret snapped.  
  
The boy handed her a set of car keys. "The black Ferrari. I'll get it later."  
  
"How will you - "  
"I just know."  
  
"You're not going to tell me your name, are you?" Margaret didn't want to think about how he knew hers.  
  
"I'll give you a hint. It means 'saviour' in Italian." He flashed her a dazzling grin, and was gone.   
  
* * * 


	2. Part 2

Part 2  
  
"You did *what*?" Connie shrieked.   
  
It was exactly the reaction Margaret had expected. She'd gone home in the black Ferrari, definitely wishing the hot guy wouldn't come and pick it up again. Unfortunately, when she'd woken in the morning the car had been gone. Then again, Margaret wasn't so sure she'd want to explain to Aunt Judith how she'd required it.   
  
"I was bored," she answered, leaning against her locker. She yawned, watching the endless rows of students hurrying past, wondering what it would be like to be amongst them and not be noticed.  
  
"There's things to do that liven boredom that *aren't* dangerous or stupid," Darla pointed out, running her fingers through her long coppery-red hair.   
  
"I couldn't think of anything," Margaret answered. Her eyes scanned the crowd for either Veronique or Suzanne, who might be able to shed some light on who the guy was.  
  
"So what did he say his name was?" Connie asked, clinging onto Margaret's arm. "He sounds dreamy."  
  
"Something about saviour in Italian, I thought it was a line," Margaret said.  
  
Darla's delicate eyebrow rose. "*Saviour*? Are you sure it wasn't Salvatore?"  
  
"Ooh, I bet it was Damon, he was the sexier of the two," Connie breathed.  
  
"How would you know? You've only read the diary, you've never seen either of them," Margaret snapped, a stone starting to sink in her stomach. Just what she wanted, a vampire problem of her own, she thought moodily. "So what if it was?"  
She pushed herself away from her locker and started to walk to class.  
  
"Well you know they say history repeats and - "  
  
Margaret stopped, whirling on Connie. "The same thing is *not* going to happen to me!" she snapped angrily. "For Christ's sake, get a fucking *life* instead of drooling over something that happened ten years ago!" She stalked off, not caring who was whispering.   
  
She was pretty sure the whole school would be talking about this by lunch. Glancing over her shoulder briefly, she was pleased that Darla had the sense to stop Connie from following her.  
  
"Maybe you should consider anger management classes," an amused voice like warm, oozing honey muttered in her ear, almost too close for comfort.   
  
Margaret refused to jump, but turned around to face Veronique calmly. "Actually, it's not something I'd give a second thought to."  
  
Veronique chuckled, shifting her books to the other arm. "What was all that about, anyway?"  
  
Margaret shrugged, really not feeling like going into all the details. There *had* to be other creatures out there besides vampires, Fell's Church had been there and done that twice already. Their realm of supernatural couldn't *just* be limited to those bloodsuckers.   
  
"Are you sure that's a door you really want to go down?" Veronique asked, eyeing her curiously.  
  
Margaret looked at her, then her eyes rolled. "And the only way you could have an inkling of what I'm thinking is if you're a vampire that can read minds, and let me guess, you were made or involved with one of the infamous Salvatore brothers."  
  
"Who are the most *boring* vampires in history? I don't think so," Veronique answered, brushing a strand of black hair behind one ear. "I'm surprised you caught on so fast. I keep forgetting you people know about us."  
  
Margaret shrugged. "Lucky guess, what with my family history and all."  
  
She was surprised at Veronique's thoughts of the Salvatore brothers. Boring was not what most girls described them as, certainly not one she'd heard before. "Why'd you think they're boring?"  
"Oh come on," she snorted as they turned into their art class. "One with an aching soul for a lost love who went insane, and another the biggest most arrogant snob on the planet? Please. The only reason they're interesting to read about is cause they just sound *hot*."  
  
Margaret found herself liking Veronique even ore. At least the girl had a different opinion, and wasn't afraid to make it clear. "So what makes you different to them? Unless you're an Original," she challenged.   
  
Veronique smirked. "Why spoil all the fun right away?" She headed for her seat at the back of the classroom.   
  
"Since when are you friends with her?"  
  
Margaret's eyes rolled as she went to hers by her supposed boyfriend Josh. Josh was your typical high school jock, dark hair, blue eyes, and muscular figure, sports star extraordinaire. He was watching Veronique with an almost dreamy look on his face. Margaret was starting to understand what all the boys saw in her.  
  
"Since about now," she answered, picking u a charcoal pencil.  
  
"I'm sure Connie'll *love* that," Josh snorted. "You should set a Smallwood on her."  
  
Margaret snickered involuntarily. Bonnie had told her the Smallwood family, a clan almost as old as the Fells themselves were werewolves. Margaret had a very funny image of little blonde Connie bursting out of her cheerleader's uniform in the middle of a game, turning furry and eating the squad. "That'd be fun."  
  
Sometimes Josh could say the right things to cheer her up, there were some good things about him. She just had to remember what they were.  
  
"You seem odd. Are you okay?"  
  
Margaret shrugged. She turned back to her drawing. She wasn't okay, and she was going to get mighty sick of explaining it. So she was bored, so her life sucked at the moment.  
  
So what could she do to make things more interesting?  
  
* * * 


	3. Part 3

Part 3  
  
So she was all grown up now. It seemed more like thirteen years centuries than thirteen years had passed. For some reason, Damon had found himself drifting back to Fell's Church. He'd told himself he was just passing, just looking to see who, if anyone, was still around.  
  
Not much about the town itself had changed. No one he particularly recognised was around. So what was the point in staying?  
  
He'd come across a night club that hadn't been there the last time, the only new edition. Inside, was no different than any other club he had been in recently. With female attention practically throwing itself at him, Damon had decided he might as well resign himself to having a good time.   
  
Then *she* had come in. At first he had thought it had been something in the blood of the swan-necked blonde he was feeding on at the time. She'd been high when he'd selected her, the buzz of whatever she was on was giving her blood a delightful lift.  
  
He had thought he was seeing things. Shoving the girl away and moving closer she was still there. She wasn't a vision. She was *real*.  
  
"Elena," he had breathed.  
  
Elena, alone without his idiot brother. That had come as a surprise, and brought a smirk of satisfaction to him. On approaching her, disappointment had coursed through him. No, she wasn't Elena after all.   
  
Then he got it. So this must be Margaret, Elena's baby sister, all grown up. The resemblance to Elena was uncanny. She even had the spunky attitude as well.  
  
"It seems the smartest thing to do now would be to leave before you do something stupid."  
  
That afternoon he had gone back to Elena's old house, watching, waiting for Margaret to come home. Unfortunately, someone else had come instead. He turned, glancing over at Veronique, unimpressed. "What makes you think I'd do something stupid?"  
  
Veronique's laugh was low and rich, reminding him of melting chocolate. She looked stunning as always, that day wearing a snake print top and green leather trousers. Her black hair hung loose to her shoulders, hidden lights shimmering in the afternoon light.  
  
"Hmm, let me see..." Her tone was mocking.  
  
As it was a residential area, he was at least smart enough not to react to her. Plus, she had a good couple of hundred years on him. He had never been too sure just what her Powers were capable of. Her words simply slid off him, like water. "Ha, ha. I was just - "  
  
"You didn't get the older sister so now you're going for the younger one? Well I've got news for you - she's *nothing* like your precious Elena. She's not even the slightest bit impressed with you. Or Stefan." Veronique's smile was almost vicious.   
  
"So she knows."  
  
"Pretty much. Interesting girl - she's looking for something other than vampires and werewolves to separate her from her sister."  
  
"Really." That had come as a surprise. He didn't know what he had expected from Margaret. He had thought she'd be aspiring to be like Elena, to have the great mystical romance Elena had had. Apparently not. Which made Margaret all the more interesting. "Is there a reason why you're here?"  
  
He didn't know why Veronique would have shown up in a nameless town like Fell's Church. She liked classy cities - Rome, London, Vienna, Milan, New York - why come to small town U.S.A.?  
  
Veronique smiled faintly. "I enrolled in Robert. E. Lee High School."  
  
Damon stared at her, then laughed. It was the last thing he had expected, it was so - corny. "Last time one of us did that it ended rather badly."  
  
Veronique's arms folded. "Well I'm smarter than Stefan."  
  
That fact was extremely questionable, though Damon decided not to say anything. "And what's the catch then?"  
  
"Margaret Gilbert is mine." Her conversational tone had gone. She turned to face him directly, eyes almost glowing from within. She was several inches taller than him, even with the tense feeling of Power emanating from her, Damon wasn't intimidated in the slightest. If anything, he was just amused. "Yours?"  
  
"Mine." There was a blast of wind and a white bird of some sort cawed before flapping over his head and vanishing.   
  
Damon walked away from Margaret's house more interested in her than ever. So it came down to who she found more intriguing. Him or Veronique. What was the fun of a girl if she wasn't a challenge?  
  
* * * 


	4. Part 4

Part 4  
  
"What's *wrong* with her, is she going crazy or what?"  
  
Darla shook her head as she and Connie sat at the  
  
local coffee shop after Margaret had snubbed them the  
  
rest of the day. She'd disappeared with Suzanne and  
  
Veronique at lunch. She hadn't been around when school  
  
had finished. Gossip and rumours were spreading faster  
  
than bacteria. "No idea. You'd have thought if she was  
  
having problems she'd talk to us."  
  
Connie nodded, tugging at a strand of curly blonde  
  
hair. "She's got everything a girl could want – why on  
  
*earth* would she rebel?"  
  
Darla sipped her latte. Maybe *that* was exactly why  
  
Margaret was rebelling. She had too much, Everything  
  
was starting to seem the same. It was all well and  
  
good to sit there and speculate, but it wasn't helping  
  
them figure out what to do.   
  
"What's Margaret doing with Suzanne?" They were joined  
  
by Suzanne's best friend Phoebe, who sat down without  
  
waiting to be asked.   
  
"What's Suzanne done to Margaret?" Connie snapped  
  
defensively. "What makes you automatically think  
  
Margaret is the bad guy?"  
  
Phoebe snorted. "Because she's almost sickeningly  
  
*good.*"  
  
"We don't know what's going on with either Margaret  
  
*or* Suzanne," Darla said calmly before an argument  
  
could break out.   
  
"We need to do *something*," Connie insisted. "It's  
  
not – it's weird. Margaret can't stand Suzanne."  
  
Phoebe nodded in agreement. "She's cramping our style.  
  
So what are we going to do?"  
  
Darla's eyes rolled. Plotting schemes weren't the way  
  
to go here. Normally Margaret was the one who was the  
  
brains behind them. And something went wrong, anyway.   
  
"Plotting my doom?" Margaret walked into the coffee  
  
shop. With a smirk when she saw Connie and Phoebe in  
  
deep conversation.   
  
"You seem to be walking towards your *own* doom,"  
  
Phoebe said, tossing back her light brown hair and  
  
smoothing her short denim skirt.   
  
Margaret shrugged. "At least it's something to do.  
  
Suzanne's looking for you."  
  
"Where?" Phoebe reached in her purse and pulled her  
  
car keys out.   
  
"I just left that new shop Mystique. Last I knew she  
  
was there."  
  
Connie's eyes opened wide. "The creepy place with the  
  
magic books and hippie stuff?"  
  
Margaret shrugged and sat down. "New age stuff. And  
  
it's not so creepy."  
  
"Veronique took you there, didn't she?" Darla said.  
  
"What do you actually *know* about that girl?"  
  
Margaret opened her mouth, an odd _expression on her  
  
face. "That she's new and kind of cool," she said  
  
finally. She clearly knew a lot more than that, but  
  
for some reason wasn't saying anything.  
  
"But she's so – aloof, and weird, and she already  
  
snubbed us," Connie protested.  
  
"She snubbed *you*. And she's not weird," Margaret  
  
snapped, her tone oddly harsh. "We're going to Fire  
  
and Thorns tonight."  
  
"You *are* crazy! That place as a *dangerous*  
  
reputation." Connie was almost shrieking.   
  
Several people around them were glancing at her  
  
disdainfully.   
  
"She's got a point," Darla agreed. It was rare Connie  
  
got the facts right about, but for once Darla knew she  
  
wasn't exaggerating about the spooky, exclusive club  
  
Fire and Thorns. "People go there and don't come back.  
  
Remember Eric Granger? And Electra Andrews?"  
  
Eric Granger had been one of Margaret's boyfriends who  
  
had been unfaithful. He had cheated on her with  
  
Suzanne of all people. Suzanne had taken him to Fire  
  
and Thorns, Eric had never been seen again. Same had  
  
happened to Electra. She had been a new girl desperate  
  
to impress and dared to try and sneak into the club.  
  
She'd never come back.  
  
Darla was pretty sure most of the other teenage  
  
disappearances recently in the town were connected  
  
somehow to Fire and Thorns.  
  
Margaret just shrugged. "No one knows what happened to  
  
Eric or Electra. Maybe they met new people there and  
  
ran off to elope. I'm going and neither of you can  
  
stop me." She stood up, making to storm off. "You know  
  
what, why don't you guys come *with* me? Then you'll  
  
see there's nothing to worry about. I'll talk to  
  
Veronique and she'll send a car to come pick you up."  
  
"We'll be there," Darla cut in before Connie could  
  
protest.  
  
Margaret walked away.   
  
"We are so dead," Connie muttered.  
  
* * * 


	5. Part 5

Author's note: Chapter 4 has been fixed. Sorry for the mix up. Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed as well. I'm just curious - Sharmeen you said there was another fic like this already on FanFiction.net? What's it called? I stuck this up here cause I thought it was a pretty original story.   
  
Part 5  
  
Natasha didn't understand what all the fuss was about. The call had come from Veronique to join her in some town in America calling itself Fell's Church. It had been obvious for a while now her maker was up to something. Veronique was often big on the whole mystery thing. She liked to keep people guessing till the last minute.  
  
Dalton often complained that it was just annoying, why couldn't Veronique ever just get to the *point*? The three of them had been together for at least four hundred years or so. Veronique had made Natasha, and wanting someone to test her powers on, Natasha had gone after the first attractive boy she had seen, who happened to be Dalton.  
  
Veronique had never come across as the most intelligent person in the world. Her mind and moods changed constantly, she never really seemed to think things through. About two months ago she had disappeared from the apartment she, Natasha and Dalton had been sharing in London. Neither of the, had been concerned, Veronique did this sort of thing all the time.   
  
Then at the beginning of the week Veronique had called to say she was back in America again.  
  
"Did she say anything at all?" Dalton asked.  
  
The flight to the U.S.A. had been terrible, there had been bad weather and turbulence most of the way there. Natasha hadn't fed in two days, which wasn't helping, the pull of blood lust was becoming stronger by the minute.   
  
She and Dalton had rented a car and were on their way to meet Veronique in her new town.  
  
"Nope. Just to come find her in Fell's Church." She looked out the window, wrapping a strand of long coppery red hair around her finger. She winced at the bright sunlight.   
  
"Why Fell's Church?" Dalton stopped the car at a red light.  
  
"I have no idea, okay?" Natasha snapped. "Stop asking pointless questions and just drive."  
  
Dalton glanced over at her, blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Whatever."  
  
He pulled over at a roadside diner; Natasha's vision was going blurry. All she could see were clouds of red. Dalton guided her round to the back of the place, bringing with him a lost tourist asking for directions. Natasha pounced, revelling in the blood that gushed into her.  
  
Dalton pulled her away before she could actually kill the tourist. Natasha glared at him. "Why'd you do that?" she demanded.  
  
Dalton looked evenly back at her. "Because, idiot, killing in an unknown territory might be a bad idea until we know a little more about why we're here."  
  
Natasha laughed harshly. "Mr. Cautious."  
  
"Fuck you." Dalton turned back to the tourist, who was staring blankly into Dalton's blue eyes before walking away. "He won't remember any of this." He pushed a few wayward strands of platinum blond hair off his forehead. "Let's get out of here."  
  
Natasha felt better as they continued the drive. She'd have been in a much more cheerful mood if she could have killed the tourist, but as much as she hated to admit it, Dalton was probably right. Since when did he care about whether or not she killed, anyway? He'd never cared before. He loved to let people know he had been there. It was something short of a miracle he hadn't been caught yet.  
  
It wasn't long before they arrived in Fell's Church. The town itself didn't seem all that remarkable, Natasha didn't see anything that particularly stood out.  
  
Dalton stopped the car outside the address Veronique had given them. A nice looking house in a residential area with a 'Sold' sign stuck in the front yard. Dalton looked around. "Am I missing something here?"  
  
"I think we're both missing something," Natasha snorted. She got out the car, running a hand down the front of her black sleeveless dress, smoothing out the creases and running her fingers through her coppery red hair before she rang the doorbell.  
  
"You two took your time!" Veronique snapped impatiently on answering the door. They followed her into the house to a living room.  
  
"We can't just decide to leave one place and *appear* in another. We're not that powerful. *Nobody* is that powerful," Natasha snorted, sitting on a blue and white stripped sofa. "What's all this about?"   
  
Natasha listened as Veronique outlined her plan. She and Dalton exchanged glances. She couldn't help a small smile. For the first time it looked like Veronique was actually thinking *seriously* about her plan before she jumped in the deep end.  
  
"So we've got to give this girl something other than vampires?" Dalton asked, shaking his head. "How the hell are we going to do *that?*"  
  
"If you'd just *listen* then I will get to that!" Veronique snapped.   
  
Natasha had to admit, Veronique had her curiosity sparked. As far as she knew there weren't that many supernatural species out there apart from vampires, witches and werewolves. So what did Veronique have in mind? Fairies? Elves? Trolls?  
  
"Okay, we need to find some creature not of the norm - why are *we* here in the meantime?"  
  
"You two are my distraction techniques while I go find my creature."  
  
Dalton looked over at Natasha, who just shrugged.   
  
"We're taking her to a club this evening - Fire and Thorns. Keep her there until I tell you otherwise."  
  
Natasha nodded. It looked like staying in Fell's Church wasn't going to be boring after all.  
  
* * * 


	6. Part 6

Part 6  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
I can't believe I attracted the attention of a Salvatore! I'm mortified! That's just more of Elena's crap. As entertaining as being a vampire might be, *that* was all Elena's crap as well, and the last person I'd let change me is Mr. Suave aka Damon Salvatore.  
  
At least Josh is turning out to be more understanding than I though. He seems to almost relate to my need for change, my desperation to be my own person.  
  
And I'm more than a little surprised to find Suzanne is helping out with that. And Veronique, who is probably the most interesting person in my life right now. I don't know what it is about her...it's more than just her refreshingly original take on things....I can't quite put it into words. Or even full sentences.  
  
I don't know why I invited Connie and Darla to this club tonight. Connie's phoned me four times to complain about how dangerous this is. Four fucking times! I wouldn't mind if some unheard of monster did come into the club and bite her stupid empty head off.  
  
I'm surprised I haven't heard from Darla as well. I'm extremely tempted to not bother picking them and go alone. Then again, in the morning they would just grill me about what happened.  
  
Ugh, I'm almost ready to say to hell with Fell's Church ad skip town all together, screw graduating. I could work my way across country, go somewhere where nobody's ever heard of the Gilberts. It's a long stretch, I know, but long stretches don't seem all that long anymore...  
  
Margaret's words trailed off. She put the pen down and the diary away. Veronique and Suzanne were coming to pick her up in twenty minutes. She hadn't even thought about what she was going to wear.  
  
Veronique had never mentioned any sort of dress code for Fire and Thorns. Aunt Judith thought she was spending the night with a friend to work on a sociology project.  
  
Margaret smirked a little as she stood in front of her wardrobe, debating. She finally settled on a short elegant yet sexy black dress with no straps and a glittery bust. With her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, a faux ruby necklace at her throat completed the look.  
  
Aunt Judith and Robert had gone out to dinner, so they couldn't see her and stop her, demanding their irritating answers. Margaret often wondered if either of them had ever been teenagers.  
  
The door bell was ringing. Only when she answered Margaret was face to face with two people she had never seen before. One was a guy, tall and attractive, with strong-looking arms and a muscular torso. He had blue eyes and platinum blond hair, and was dressed in white leather pants and a white leather vest.  
  
The girl with him was dark skinned with long coppery-red hair, wearing a hot pink dress with spaghetti straps and a long skirt, slit to the hip on both sides, showing off her legs.  
  
Margaret felt her heart skip several beats. "Yeah?"  
  
"Margaret Gilbert?" the girl asked.  
  
"That's me." She folded her arms. "Who the hell are you two?" she asked, trying not to smile, or melt into a puddle. These were probably two of the most striking people she had ever seen.   
  
"Your escorts for the night. Veronique sent us," the girl told her. "I'm Natasha. He's Dalton."  
  
"Your chariot awaits," Dalton said with a smirk, gesturing to the sleek red sports car with a convertible top that was sitting on the drive.   
  
Margaret knew it was extremely fo0lish to go off with two beautiful strangers. But who cared about what was right anymore? Certainly not her.  
  
* * * 


	7. Part 7

Part 7  
  
She was restless and couldn't seem to concentrate on anything. Not even the gorgeous guy on top of her. Bonnie sighed with irritation and pushed him away. "Sorry, Jeff, but I'm just not in the mood."  
  
"You were in the mood fifteen minutes ago," Jeff protested, trying to pull her back to him.  
  
Bonnie smiled, but shoved him off her, reaching for the light switch above the headboard of the bed.  
  
"I should have known not to marry a witch," Jeff grumbled, reaching for the TV remote on his bedside table.  
  
"*Droo*-id," Bonnie corrected, putting on a lacy black robe she'd left on the floor.  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Bonnie stared at him open mouthed for a second, before shaking her head. "And I should never have married a werewolf!" she retorted back at him.  
  
Jeff muttered something rude. Bonnie stalked out the bedroom, slamming the door behind her, stomping loudly down the stairs. During her college years she had found a group of practicing druids who had helped her develop and control her psychic power. She'd soon learned psychics weren't the only people the coven helped - werewolves as well apparently. And not all of them were evil and mean like Tyler Smallwood. She had met Jeff there and now been married to him for ten years.  
  
Her sixth sense had been bugging the hell out of her lately. She couldn't figure out why. As a journalist for the New York Times her job could get extremely stressful sometimes, but she knew that wasn't it.  
  
So what the hell was it? Checking her watch she wondered if it was too late to call Meredith. Here in New York it was ten thirty in the evening. Meredith lived in England at the moment doing some sort of work for Oxford University where she worked in the science department, something to do with bio chemistry and/or genetics, Bonnie couldn't really remember. She found it hard to listen when Meredith talked about her job, science in any form just wasn't her thing.  
  
Elena and Stefan had gone off to Europe after that night in the clearing. Since Elena was supposed to be dead and buried she couldn't exactly stay in Fell's Church. She didn't know where they were now, Elena had barely phoned in the last two or three years.   
  
Caroline was a fashion designer and living in Milan with her own clothes company. She had no idea where Matt was. If anything, he'd done everything he could to avoid the old high school gang.  
  
She settled for calling Meredith.  
  
"What is it, Bonnie?"  
  
"How'd you know it was me?"  
  
"Who else would call me at three in the morning?"  
  
"Something's wrong."  
  
"I need a little more to go on."  
  
Bonnie didn't know how to explain. Long ago she had learned to trust her instincts, and if she thought something was wrong, it usually was. And it was usually something supernatural - or why else would she have picked up on it?  
  
"Bonnie?" Meredith's tone held a hint of annoyance.  
  
"Still here, sorry," Bonnie said quickly. "My sixth sense is acting up."  
  
"You did marry a werewolf, could that have something to do with it?"  
  
Meredith had never taken to Jeff. She was, of course, nothing but polite to him, but Bonnie knew her well enough to see how much she disapproved. "Not, it's *nothing* to do with Jeff," she said heatedly. "It's something in Fell's Church." She had no idea where that last part had come from, it just made sense to her.  
  
"Fell's Church has been clear of supernatural activity for the last fifteen years," Meredith said.  
  
"I know, but Margaret is still there."  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence. As she had grown up Bonnie used to visit Margaret all the time. Margaret had loved to hear her stories of what Bonnie, Elena and Meredith had gotten up to during their school years. Though recently, Margaret just was not interested in hearing anything about Elena anymore.  
  
"What's Damon been up to?" Meredith asked doubtfully.  
  
Bonnie's eyes widened. Damon had never managed to get anywhere with Elena, but now Margaret had grown up and was the exact image of the sister who had been unattainable, and the same age Elena had been when Damon had fallen for her.  
  
"You don't think - "  
  
"I wouldn't put it past him," Meredith cut in dryly. "You're closer to home than anyone."  
  
"I'll get there as soon as I can. I'll fill you in when I can. 'Bye."  
  
"'Bye." Meredith hung up.  
  
Bonnie stared at the phone in her hand. ~What are you up to, Damon?~ she thought.  
  
* * * 


	8. Part 8

Part 8  
  
It was still hard to believe how different Margaret was, despite how much she looked like Elena. Her lack of interest in the supernatural was a problem Damon had never anticipated. Still, he had never been one to back away from a challenge.  
  
In crow form, he perched on the branch of the quince tree outside the Elena's window. His eyes didn't miss the sleek red sports car pulling into the empty drive, nor did he miss Veronique's two goons in the car.  
  
Odd, how Margaret was intrigued by *them*. The crow squawked in annoyance. Natasha looked up, scowling at it. Her male companion, whose name was lost on Damon, was frowning at him as well.  
  
"What? It's just a crow." Margaret was looking from one to the other. Then turned, appearing almost to look directly at him, as a scowl of anger crossed her pretty face.  
  
"Oh, for the love of..." Margaret muttered angrily. She gave the crow the finger, tossed her hair over her shoulder and got in the car. "You two coming or what?"  
  
Natasha was chuckling. "You're not as dense as we thought."  
  
"Yeah, well Damon Salvatore can shove his charm and anything else up his pompous ass," Margaret answered.  
  
"If only I could see the look on his face at that," the male said, shaking his head with amusement, and drove off.  
  
The crow flew from the branch. A few seconds later a shadow became Damon. Their words had no effect on him. If anything, they just amused him. If he'd have let every snide remark get to him he'd have been a basket case by the time he was twenty, let a lone five hundred plus.  
  
Elena had refused him, but loved him in the end in her own way. It wasn't enough. She hadn't come *with* him. She was never going to leave that moron of a brother of his. He didn't understand it now any more than he did back then, the whole mess of his feelings for Elena. He was no better in Fell's Church now than he had been ten years ago.  
  
"What point of her little gesture did you not understand?"  
  
Damon's eyes rolled. His patience was starting to wear thin and he was *not* in the mood for Veronique. "I didn't pursue her, did I?"  
  
Veronique smiled. "Yes, but I know you too well. You're not one for giving up."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
Veronique looked at him sharply. She was smart enough to sense his annoyance. She wasn't strong enough to out do him in a power battle, nor a physical one. At least he *hoped* she was smart enough to realise that. Then again, he wouldn't pas up the opportunity for a good fight.   
  
"Their names are Connie and Darla."  
  
Damon's eyebrow arched. "Margaret's friends?"  
  
Veronique nodded. "Preferably dead. You like killing things."  
  
"What's in it for me?"  
  
Veronique smiled again. "I'm working on a little surprise get-together."  
  
Damon's eyes rolled. "And this is the part where I'm supposed to be intrigued and do what you ask to find out."  
  
Veronique was still apparently determined to get Margaret for herself. Margaret, who supposedly had no interest in vampires. Veronique was certainly not the brightest - so what the hell could she possibly have in mind. ~Damn~ Damon thought. That bitch really did have an irritating way of getting under your skin. Okay, so play things her way.  
  
For now.  
  
"What are you smirking at?" Veronique asked, frowning at him.  
  
"You've got yourself a deal."  
  
* * * 


End file.
